Lucas looked like he wanted to argue, but after a silent moment he began to walk again. Neither of us spoke after that for several hours.
We stopped three times to rest and eat before Lucas pointed into the distance.
“There. Can you see it?”
The beginnings of dawn had lightened the darkness around us, but I could still barely make out a distant building. It loomed in the sky, its star-less outline all I could see.
Almost reflexively I said, “Shield,” directing the protection to cover us both. Lucas glanced at me but said nothing.
“We need to find a place to hole up,” he said. “One that will keep us in view of it.”
“We need to get closer first,” I replied.
He nodded and resumed our progress, although we moved more carefully now. Gradually the building grew clearer, the sun rising closer toward the horizon.
Just as I was about to whisper that perhaps we had gone close enough, he held up a hand to stop me. I froze, straining to hear what had startled him. A moment later I gave myself a mental kick and focused in on my ability to sense power and energy rather than my hearing.
Within seconds, I felt it too. Ahead of us, hidden by some trees, two people moved in our direction. I stepped closer to Lucas, dropping my voice.
“Shall I hide us?”
He hesitated. “They might just be local farmers.”
“And if they’re not?”
“We might attract worse attention by hiding ourselves. They have most likely already felt our shields.”
I winced. I hadn’t asked him when I set the shield, and now I might have gotten us both into trouble.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, “I didn’t think of—”
My words cut off when the two figures stepped from behind the shielding greenery. I had only ever met a single Kallorwegian, and he stood before me now, looking directly at us.
Prince Cassius lengthened his stride, hurrying in our direction, and Lucas tensed beside me. Every instinct told me to run or to hide or to fight, but this is why we had come.
“Elena. Lucas.” Cassius regarded us without the least trace of surprise in his eyes, and every one of my nerves quivered. “I thought I might see you around here.”
His dark brown eyes held the same excitement I remembered from the Battle of Abneris. But I had seen sincerity in them then as well. Now I saw only a disquieting pleasure.
“Cassius.” Lucas gave him a curt nod.
“You were very easy to find,” the Kallorwegian prince said.
I straightened. “Who said we were trying to hide?” The time had come to be bold. “We’ve come to end the war, just as you said.”
“Excellent,” he said with something like glee. “With your help my father will be ruling in Corrin within weeks.”
I sucked in a breath, throwing a glance at Lucas. His eyes hadn’t left the other prince.
“But what of the—” I began.
“The rebellion?” He laughed, a fanatical gleam entering his eyes. “All in Kallorway respect the power of my father and our rightful claim over Ardann. And now my father will be victorious—and I will be the instrument of that victory.”
I swallowed and took a step backward. I should have known better than to ever consider Cassius might have been telling the truth.
“Lucas…” I knew my voice sounded panicked, and I wished we’d discussed in more detail what to do in this eventuality.
“Don’t worry,” Lucas said quietly, “there’s only two of them.”
Cassius smiled, his expression taking on a cruel hue that I hadn’t seen the last time we met.
“Yes, indeed,” he said. “I am not the fool here. I have not brought a legion for you to suck dry.”
I gasped, my eyes flying to Lucas, and for the first time he faltered. We had feared discovering the rebellion was a lie, but we had never considered the possibility that Cassius could know my secret.
But neither of us had the chance to speak before the mage standing behind Cassius tore a parchment. A battering assault of pure power threw itself against my shield.
I tried to decide on the best composition to use, only to hesitate. Lucas usually wanted me to take the defense, holding as long as possible while he disarmed our opponents. And from the force of their attack, I might need every drop I had.
Lucas tore a composition of his own, and a tree tore itself from the ground and flew like a spear toward Cassius. The other prince didn’t even flinch, a smile lingering on his face as his shield held.
His companion tore two more attack compositions, and yet more of my energy drained out as my power held our shield against him.
Lucas already had another composition in his hands, but his eyes had narrowed, jumping between Cassius and his companion. Cassius drew out several parchments from his robe and tore them one by one. Shield after shield flared into existence around them until the two of them stood behind multiple layers of shielding.
Meanwhile, the other mage sent yet another attack our way.
“So much power,” I muttered, my knees wobbling.
My eyes lingered on Cassius. All those shields used up when they might not even be needed. So much strength thrown away. He didn’t fight like other mages, attempting to preserve as many of their compositions as possible.
I reached out desperately. Perhaps there was someone else nearby, after all, who could lend power to my defense. But the land stretched away from me empty, the inhabitants of the Academy still too far away to reach.
Lucas caught me beneath the arm as I swayed again. I could see stark fear in his eyes as he looked at me, and I knew it wasn’t for himself.
“We have to surrender,” he muttered.
I tried to protest, but he shook his head.
“If these endless attacks keep up, they’ll burn you dry. He said they plan to take Ardann with our help. I don’t know what that means, but I’m fairly sure he doesn’t mean to kill us.”
Another composition hit my shield, and Lucas didn’t wait for my agreement.
“We surrender,” he called.
The second mage paused, another composition undamaged in his hands, and looked to Cassius for instruction.
“Then let your shield fall,” he said.
Reluctantly, every part of me screaming in protest, I murmured, “Stop.”
My power cut off, leaving us exposed and vulnerable.
Cassius smiled and took his time removing a small curl of parchment.
“See, there,” he said. “I knew they would be sensible.”
He ripped it, his power rushing toward us. Lucas’s arms pulled me close, and then the world went black.
Chapter 19
When my consciousness returned, my body spasmed, gagging and retching. For a long moment I could make sense of nothing except my body’s urgent need to clear my airway.
“Elena! Elena!” Finally Lucas’s voice filtered through. “Stop and breathe,” he called. “Just breathe.”
I sucked in a desperate flow of air through my nose and forced my mind to take control over my body. I can breathe. I can breathe. I can breathe, I repeated to myself over and over, until the spasms and gagging subsided.
A wet, foul wad of material filled my mouth, held in place by a gag. But my nose was clear, and I continued to take deep calming breaths. My arms stretched back tightly, my hands bound behind my back, but my legs were free. Squirming, I managed to shuffle myself around and on to my knees, facing toward Lucas’s voice.
He sat, his back against a large barrel and his face full of concern as he watched me. His own hands had been bound similarly to mine, but his mouth was free. Some sort of composition-fueled light source glowed on the wall near him, dimly illuminating our prison. I startled to shuffle on my knees toward him, but he quickly shook his head.
“No, stay where you are. Can you feel it?”
I paused and paid closer attention to the room. It appeared to be a subterranean storage room of some kind, several barrel
s scattered throughout it. No visible barrier stood between Lucas, on one side of the room, and me, on the other, but I could feel the telltale presence of power, extending like an invisible wall down the middle of the room.
“I’ve already tried everything I can think of,” he said. “I can’t get past it.” He grimaced. “And it stings to try.”
I looked around again, noting the only door—made of sturdy wood—stood on his side. He followed my gaze.
“Locked, of course. And I’ve searched these barrels too. Unless you can think of a use for hundreds of potatoes, they’re not going to be much help.”
I groaned, about the only noise I could manage clearly. Stretching out my senses, I felt people moving around above us, but none seemed to be coming in our direction.
I frowned questioningly at Lucas, letting my eyes rove around the room.
“As far as I can tell, I think we’re being held in a basement storage room of the Kallorwegian Academy,” he said. His tone turned wry. “I guess they don’t have dungeons here.”
I slumped down into a sitting position. No doubt we would soon be transferred to Kallmon and a real cell. Lucas might have been the one to lead us to that boat, but I had spent the first half of the year arguing that we should consider Cassius’s assistance. I had been an idiot.
“The real question,” Lucas said, continuing our one-sided conversation, “is what they intend to do next. It’s all very well to keep a gag on you, but eventually they’re going to have to let you eat and drink. We’re not exactly easy prisoners to keep long term.” His face looked white.
“So I can’t help but wonder,” he continued, “what method they have planned to force our speedy compliance.”
I could feel any remaining color drain out of my own face.
“Obviously we need to get out of here,” Lucas said. “And fast. But I’m afraid I’m drawing short on ideas. They seem to have done a fairly thorough job of clearing out my compositions—from what I can tell with my hands tied.”
I looked up, my heart seizing. I had never known Lucas to be without a substantial number of powerful compositions on his person—it felt strange to think of him naked in such a way.
“Most of them are keyed to me, so they won’t do them much good,” he added. “But unfortunately they won’t do us much good either. The best hope I can see is to conserve our energy until someone comes for us. Our best chance will be in transit, I imagine.” He paused for a moment and lowered his voice.
“I think…I think I still have one composition. Right in the very toe of my boot. But it’s only one to use as a very last resort, preferably when Cassius drags us before his father.”
He looked at me, and I didn’t need him to spell it out to understand what he meant. My eyes widened.
“You’re not the only one who made use of your time in the Empire,” he whispered. “It was a good idea—for a desperate circumstance. And so yesterday, while you slept, I wrote out a sealing composition of my own and stashed it separately to the rest of my workings. But I meant what I said about your ability, it’s too important to lose. If it comes to it, better I do it. And you use every bit of power you can scrape up to shield yourself.”
I shook my head stubbornly, and he growled his frustration. He looked at me, then away, then back at me again.
“Back in the emperor’s library, when we discussed the idea of you sealing yourself, I said you were too important to Ardann. I told you that a ruler must think of the good of all. But the truth is I was only thinking about one person. You. I can’t bear to see any part of who you are taken away.”
He pinned me with his eyes. “I brought you here, this is all my fault. I don’t care what happens to me, as long as you make it out unscathed.” He paused. “But if the moment comes, and you’re the only one who can get your hands on my composition, don’t hesitate. My written composition will be a lot faster than you attempting to speak one. Use it, if you have to.”
I shifted uncomfortably, almost glad my gag saved me from having to respond. He was right. I would prefer to be the one to work his composition—and seal myself in the process—than suffer whatever fate Osborne had in mind for me and my power. And if I could shatter Osborne’s rule at the same time, so much the better.
I tried to settle into a more comfortable position, but I couldn’t turn off my mind, and one thought burned stronger than the rest—the one thing Lucas had carefully avoided mentioning. And if he didn’t bring it up, I had no way to do so. The frustration of that inability sat heavy in my chest, a tight knot of pressure that only grew tighter as time passed.
Cassius had been out looking for us. He had known we were coming. And much worse still, he had known of my new ability. So few people knew of that. And one of them had betrayed me.
My stomach surged, and only a supreme effort of will kept me from gagging again. I had told myself that not all the Stantorns were the same, that not all of them could be traitors. And I still wanted to believe that. How could Beatrice have sided with the Kallorwegians? She worked day after day, month after month, to reverse the damage they did to our soldiers. She had been the one to break the power of the green fever epidemic. I couldn’t reconcile anything of her character and actions with such a despicable betrayal.
I could see her now, sitting beside me in the Sekali garden, and I remembered who else had been there. I hadn’t told Jocasta my secret, but she had come upon Beatrice and me…What if she had arrived at the beginning of the conversation and heard the whole thing before making her presence known? And yet that thought didn’t bring much comfort. Jocasta might be gruff on occasion, but I would never have picked her as a traitor.
The idea that I might know her even less than I had thought, sat heavily in my stomach. She wasn’t a Stantorn, but she had no allegiance with any of the other great families, either. And I had no actual evidence the treachery was limited to the Stantorns. Perhaps they had recruited others to their cause? The thought only made me feel more ill.
Lucas didn’t speak again, and time stretched out, impossible to measure in the windowless room. The wad in my mouth only grew more rank, and I desperately tried to keep my mind from fixating on it. Unfortunately my second strongest sensation was thirst, soon followed by hunger. My hands had burned for a while, but they had now lost sensation, another thing I was trying not to dwell on.
I entered an almost stupor-like daze for an unknown length of time. Only the sense of a single person approaching our storage room jerked me out of it. With a surge, I pushed myself onto my knees, managing to scramble to my feet, despite a dangerous wobble.
Lucas started, looking from me to the door as he also got to his feet despite his bindings. I had no real way to tell who it was that approached, but I fully expected to see Cassius’s face when the door opened.
It took me a moment to reorient when an unfamiliar man appeared. He was alone, the only one on the whole basement level, apart from us, but he didn’t look like a guard, or even a powerful mage.
His hair—mostly white, although his face only bore the lines of middle age—stuck up in all directions, and one of his eyebrows grew larger and bushier than the other, giving him a lopsided, almost perplexed look. He wore a robe, but it was so faded and worn it was hard to tell its original color. If pressed, I would have guessed purple. But what was a disheveled healer doing in our prison cell?
For a silent moment we all stared at each other. And then he spoke.
“Drat! I was hoping Elena would be the one on the door side. You’ll have to give me a moment, this complicates things.” He strode straight back out the door, leaving it swinging open behind him.
Lucas, clearly shocked and suspicious, stayed in place for several breaths before rushing toward the open door. He hadn’t made it all the way when the strange man reappeared, almost colliding with him.
“Oh! Oh goodness! Steady on there. There’s no point rushing off until we can get that shield down and Elena out.”
Lucas, who looked
as if he had been about to headbutt the mage, paused.
“What do you mean?” he asked. “Who are you?”
“I’m Declan,” the man said, fumbling with several pieces of parchment and a pen which he thrust out to Lucas. “I’m afraid the prince burned all your compositions when he found he couldn’t use them, so you’ll have to write a new one.”
Had this strange man come to free us? And was he not a mage at all then? My head rang with questions that I couldn’t voice.
Lucas raised his eyebrows, lifting his shoulders awkwardly.
“Oh, of course. Foolish me.” The man dropped the parchment and pen to the ground and pulled a knife from his boot. Circling around Lucas, he cut his bonds.
Lucas groaned softly as he was released, pulling his hands around to the front and shaking them.
“That’s going to hurt,” Declan said, sympathy in his voice. “Until the blood starts flowing freely again.”
Lucas bent and attempted to retrieve the pen, but his hand spasmed, and it slipped through his fingers.
“Just give it a moment,” said Declan.
“Why don’t you do it?” Lucas asked, eyeing him suspiciously.
“Not my area of expertise,” Declan replied.
“Are you only a healing assistant, then?” Lucas asked.
“No, I’m a true healer. Of sorts.” Declan shook his head. “There will be time to exchange stories once we’re free of this place. Try again now.”
This time Lucas’s fingers obeyed him, gripping the pen firmly, although I could see from his face that it hurt to do so. He paused for a moment to think and then frantically began to scrawl words across the page.
I waited, trying to contain my impatience as he wrote for what felt like forever. But at last he straightened again and ripped the parchment neatly in half. His power didn’t attack the wall with full force, as I had expected, however. Instead a soft crunching noise sounded, and several of the stones not far down from the door pushed themselves away from the wall, creating a hole on my side of the room into whatever corridor or antechamber the room opened off.
Voice of Life (The Spoken Mage Book 4) Page 23
